


How to Plan for Your Own Surprise Party

by pinstripedJackalope



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Birthday Party, Chaste Kisses, Fluff, M/M, Shiro gets jump scared for a week straight, Shiro's birthday, Surprise Party, Surprises, put him out of his misery already, vldexchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 09:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13831398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/pseuds/pinstripedJackalope
Summary: Shiro just wants to know what the surprise part of the surprise party is if they told him about it beforehand.  Is that really too much to ask?





	How to Plan for Your Own Surprise Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PerrythePlatypusGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerrythePlatypusGirl/gifts).



> Hey! This is a @vldexchange piece, Shiro b-day edition, for @perrytheplatypusgirl on tumblr! Hope you like it ;D
> 
> Also there's a comic that goes with it because I'm extra as all hell!
> 
> http://the-ghost-of-keith-kogane.tumblr.com/post/171398859778/hey-perrytheplatypusgirl-guess-what-i-have-a

They warn him, weeks before.  One after the other, they seek him out to tell him the news: unless he somehow manages to disappear between now and his ‘birthday’ (calculated based on some intense math that Shiro still isn’t sure is accurate), they WILL throw him a surprise party, and he IS going to like it.

When the third person appears casually as if from beyond the grave to communicate this to him, Shiro raises an eyebrow and asks, “How can it be a surprise if you’re telling me about it?”

“The surprise doesn’t have to be the existence of the party, Shiro,” is Pidge’s flippant response.  She has an appraising spark in her eye, as if she’s analyzing everything about him—his casual dress, his stance, the pouch of a sweetish nectar substance used for baking that he tucked into his front pocket and now is self-consciously trying to hide.  “What do you actually know?  Hardly anything.  All the information you have to work with is that an event will come to pass.  Even if you know it’s coming, you still don’t know when, or how, or where.  With the information you have, the nature of the party is still a surprise.  Surely that meets the requirements of a surprise party.”

And then she winks.

He concedes the point.  With that, Pidge disappears back down the castle hallway, a completely unassuming figure in her shorts and jacket, as if her sharp eyes were never focused on every single detail of his person.  It’s as if they’d only greeted each other in passing.  Shiro shakes his head.  Then he finds a nook to tuck himself into to savor his stolen treat.

Later that night, he locates Keith on the training deck, checking out the schematics of one of the training droids, and nonchalantly stands next to him.  “So… I heard there’s going to be a surprise party,” he says.

“Yup.”

“And I heard it’s for my birthday.”

“This is true.”

The ease with which Keith says the words is a surprise.  Is that… is that it?  They’re really planning a surprise party that they’ve informed him about beforehand?  There’s no way.  Lance doesn’t DO half-assed parties, and Lance was the first one to come to him.  Shiro searches Keith’s features for some sign of what their game is.  They must have a game—they have to be messing with him somehow.  Pidge’s quip about what makes a surprise is a diversion or—or _something_.  Why in the vast expanses of the NGC 6302 nebula would they _tell him_ about his own surprise party?

Like always, Keith seems to sense his searching look.  He raises his head, glancing over with a tilt to his lips that implies just the faintest of smirks.  “Shiro,” he says, and puts a meaningful hand on his shoulder, a mirror of every single time Shiro has done the same to him to calm him down.  “Shiro, baby… don’t stress about it.”

He blinks.  Frowns.  And then huffs a laugh because Keith is right—what could possibly happen?  They surprise him, and he’s prepared for it?  Wow, so wild. 

“I’m serious, you really don’t have to think so hard about it,” Keith says, laughing along with him.  “I just thought it would be kinder to you if we didn’t jump out from behind our chairs screaming.  Also, y’know, slightly less chance of accidental evisceration.”

Shiro wraps him up in his arms, pulling him close even though he grumbles about wanting to finish what he’s doing.  He can’t believe how much he loves Keith sometimes.  “Thank you,” he whispers, tucking his nose behind Keith’s ear and nuzzling his neck.  Keith rubs a hand up and down his bicep, soothing.  It’s hard to comprehend the genuine compassion that Keith has toward him—how often Keith makes a thoughtful suggestion or moves something around just so Shiro doesn’t have to worry about it, the way Keith checks in every so often just to make sure he’s doing okay, how he will physically put himself between Shiro and danger if he realizes that Shiro can’t finish the fight on his own.

He trusts Keith more than anything else in the universe.

When he pushes away, Keith gives him a smile and tousles his white streak.  “Just keep an eye open, Takashi.  You’ll be fine.”  They part ways with a blown kiss, and Shiro walks out of the training deck still holding it to his chest.  Keith calls something after him, maybe another reminder to chill and take a breather, but he doesn’t quite catch it as the door slides closed—he is in the process of turning back when he hears something scuff on the floor.

He pauses.  A mouse?  Is it here soliciting for food scraps?  The hallway is empty.

It’s at this point that he gets the ever-living _shit_ scared out of him in the form of _Lance_.

There’s a shout of, “ _This is a test run_!” and suddenly Lance’s lanky frame pops up frighteningly close as if he materialized out of thin air.  He’s holding a small metal device with a switch on the side and has a pair of outlandish, oversized sci-fi goggles strapped to his face, looking for all the world like a giant metal bug. 

“Christ!” Shiro yelps.  He blows out hard through his nose, frowning as severely as he can with his heart pounding like that.  He manages to turn the hand he raised in self-defense into a pointing finger, which he aims at Lance’s chest, trying to be threatening despite the fact that he just flinched, and _badly_.  “It’s not my birthday yet,” he says darkly, glancing around for the others.  God, if they got that on camera… he will never live it down.

Lance grins, fiddling with the goggles.  “Of course not!  It’s exactly what I said it is—a test run.  I’m field-testing Pidge’s mini-cloaker.  Welp, I’m off—I have a circuit of the hangars to do.  See ya, Shiro!”

And with that, he’s gone.  Shiro blinks a few times, listening hard—Lance is in socks, which muffle his footsteps, but he can’t hide the muttered curse when he accidentally hits his elbow on the corner at the end of the hall.  Shiro snorts.

A moment later Keith comes sliding out of the training deck, bayard in hand, ready to come to the rescue.  Shiro pats him consolingly on the back.  He tried his best.  That’s all they can ask for, really.

Throughout the next few weeks, the scares come like clockwork.  One day it’s Hunk, catching him on his way out of Black after training.  Then it’s Pidge, hiding in a closet when he goes to grab an extra set of gloves.  The Alteans are the worst—they get him multiple times with a hologram trick, making him think they’re across the room before they emerge from the shadows right next to him.  No one ever says that it has to do with his birthday, always coming up with one excuse or another.  By the end of it, the only one who hasn’t snuck up on him on purpose is Keith—at least, he doesn’t think the shower thing was on purpose.

When he brings it up with Keith, Keith pulls a face and just says, “Acclimation,” not giving Shiro any more information no matter how many times he asks.  Acclimation for _what_?  Whose idea was this??  Did they just plan on surprising him continuously _until_ his birthday?

Pidge.  She’s the only one with the right amount of mischievousness and enough cunning to orchestrate something like this.  Shiro makes eye contact with her whenever he sees her eyes on him, forking his fingers and gesturing from his face to hers to let her know he’s on to her.  She only raises an eyebrow.

The day of his birthday, or at least the date they’ve marked on the Altean calendars as his day of birth, comes like any other day.  The difference is that today, Shiro is _ready_.  He does fifty pushups before he even opens his door, to make sure he’s awake enough for any surprises they might have set up.  He makes it to breakfast unscathed.  But of course, they knew they wouldn’t catch him off-guard in the castle equivalent of the AM—he’s more of a morning person than any of them.  He keeps waiting, watching.  Lunch comes and goes.  That’s fine.  He can keep track of all of them without a problem, especially now that he knows the trick to telling the difference between a hologram and a living being.  They’ll be lucky if he even blinks when the time actually comes.  He will spend the entire day in a state of semi-alertness, watching them from the corners of his eyes, because like HELL they’re going to win after all this. 

When the alarms go off rather late in the evening, he expects to walk into the control center and be covered in confetti.  Still nothing.  Well, nothing but a few Galra transmissions coming in from a cruiser that got closer to the castle than comfortable.  They get in the Lions to take care of it and when they get back, Lance is yawning so widely that Shiro can see his molars.  That’s the first time that he feels a twinge of uncertainty. 

It’s really starting to look like there isn’t going to be a party.  In fact, when Shiro suggests that everyone head to bed so they can get some sleep after the mission, there’s amicable agreement and everybody disappears into their rooms with hardly a glance in his direction.

For a good ten minutes, he stands in the ‘dormitory’ hallway with his hands on his hips, waiting for them to emerge so he can catch them in the act of conspiring.  Zip.  Nada.  No movement whatsoever. 

What the _heck_.

He lets himself into the red room and sits on Keith’s feet, forcing him to turn off the tablet he’s studying so he can wriggle free.  “Uh, can I help you?” he asks, digging his toes into Shiro’s thigh.

Shiro folds himself against the wall, slouching more than he usually lets himself so he can pout in Keith’s direction.  “So… what?  Did you guys forget what day it is?  Am I going to wake up covered in streamers?  What’s the deal?”

“Oh.  That.  We have a plan,” Keith says, refocusing on the text he’s reading. 

Shiro flops on the bed, staring up at Keith’s passive face.  “And?” he prompts.

“And… the plan… exists?”  Keith blinks.

With a groan, Shiro buries his face in Keith’s lap.  “I can’t _take_ this.  This is hands down the _worst_ suspense I’ve _ever_ felt.  _Take pity on me_.”

Keith’s laugh is both an insult and a balm at the same time.  “Pity?  Since when do you want pity?” he asks, finally setting his tablet aside so he can card his fingers through Shiro’s hair.  Shiro groans again.  This entire thing has been insufferable, and the fact that they _warned him_ is just making it ten times worse, which was probably their intent the whole time.

“You’re all demons,” he intones to Keith’s pants.  “Vile, evil demons.”

Another laugh.  “You’re melodramatic when you’re paranoid.  Look, just—here.”  With some scooting, Keith manages to swipe another tablet off his bedside table.  He holds it between two knuckles, wagging it back and forth while Shiro narrows his eyes.  “This is the plan.  It has all the details of how and when we’re going to do it.”

 _That_ has Shiro’s attention.  He swallows, unconsciously leaning toward it like a dog sniffing out someone’s pastrami sandwich. 

Keith grins.  “Aaall of your questions can be answered by this little guy,” he croons.  Like a hypnotist, he waves the tablet slowly back and forth.  Shiro watches hungrily.  Can he grab it and book?  Will they have time to reconvene before someone sets the whole thing in motion?  What is the chance that he can get his hands on that thing without rendering the information on it useless?

Bargaining.  If he can offer Keith just the right things, Keith will let him take that tablet and walk right out of here without anyone knowing that he caved.

Keith is one step ahead of him.  “Oh, Shiro,” he whispers in a husky voice, making Shiro’s eyes snap to him.  “What would you do to see what’s on this screen?”

 _Anything_.  He would eat Coran’s paladin lunch.  He would take off his arm and blow a raspberry at a Galra commander while he waved it like a flag.  If PDAs weren’t Keith’s worst nightmare, he would suck up his stage fright and broadcast himself singing a serenade for the entire galaxy to see. 

It’s a good thing that Keith is just looking for a kiss because frankly speaking, Shiro is embarrassed by his desperation to see The Plan.  As Keith leans in, nudging Shiro’s chin up carefully, Shiro has an urge to laugh hysterically.  Pidge is a goddamn _genius_.  Never has he ever needed to know something as badly as he does right now.

Well… in a minute.  _Right_ now he’s a little busy.

“You’re the best,” he says into Keith’s cheek when Keith presses the tablet into his hand.  He takes a moment to pepper Keith’s entire face with little pecks, bringing a giddy laugh to both their lips, before he sweeps Keith’s feet up and out of his way, ducking under them to crawl off the bed.  From there it’s only a short stride to his room.  He has the holographic screen up the moment the door closes behind him, not even bothering to sit down first.

There’s only one line.  Shiro squints.  _The surprise is coming—look up_.

He raises his head, and as he does, the ceiling opens up and dumps a ton of confetti on top of him.  All at once the others appear, placed strategically around the room, blowing on noise-makers fashioned after earth party favors.  Balloons explode out of the vents on either side of him, hitting the walls with audible _baps_ and obscuring his vision.  “Yo, Shiro!” Pidge calls from her perch on Lance’s back.  When the balloons clear enough for Shiro to see her, she points behind him with a wicked grin.  His jaw drops as he swings around and finds a banner hung over the door— _Happy Birthday Shiro!!!_   Confections on hovering platters that look like baby flying saucers float down, complete with candles that flare to life when Hunk raises one arm.  On cue, everyone takes a deep breath and starts to sing the birthday song, Allura and Coran reading from little holo-screens.  Coran and Lance are both belters, singing at the top of their lungs, and even though Coran is incredibly off-key it hits a note of nostalgia so strong that Shiro finds tears coming to his eyes.

Keith strolls in as the last word rings in the air, the picture of innocence, and loops his arms around Shiro’s chest.  “We got you, didn’t we?” he says, his face infinitely soft, leaning back to get a good look at the smile that Shiro feels is going to split his face in two.

A warmth, like soft coals burning in his stomach and lighting him from the inside out, makes Shiro laugh out loud.  Gosh, he really feels like he’s about to break his face, he’s smiling so hard.  He tucks Keith under his chin, squeezing him soundly in his excitement.  Keith squeezes back fondly.  “You did.  You really, really did.  Pidge!  How the hell did you manage this?”

“What, me?”  Pidge giggles, crossing her arms on top of Lance’s head.  “You thought it was me the whole time?  Wow, I’m actually really flattered.”

“Wh—then who was it?” he demands, turning on the rest of them. 

Like they choreographed it (and at this point, Shiro really wouldn’t put it past them), all of them step to the side to reveal… Coran.  He pulls on his moustache, a twinkle in his eye, before he takes a deep bow that nearly sweeps the floor.  “It was an honor,” he says, snapping back to proper posture, “to participate in this holy human tradition.  Come now—we have cupcakes to eat!”

“And then we really should be getting to bed,” Allura says gently.  She walks over, her hands clasped in front of her.  One of the mice sits on her shoulder, decked out in a miniature party hat.  “Oh, Shiro… I’m so glad you’ve survived another year so that we may celebrate this day with you.”

“Me, too,” he says as Keith extricates himself to fetch them both a slice of neon green cake.  Hunk and Pidge are laughing together, tying balloons to loops on their clothing.  The other mice wade through the confetti, cutting a game trail from Allura to the food.  Lance tries to rub a balloon on his shirt and stick it to Keith’s hair on his way past, but Keith ducks out of the way with a laugh, only to steal the balloon and come after Shiro.

He can’t deny that there have been too many hardships between his last birthday and now to count.  He still can’t remember exactly what happened to him on Sendak’s ship, but between the physical scarring and the mental obstacles, he knows that life hasn’t been kind to him.  For a long while now, the passage of time has been something of a curse, only leading to more struggle.  But this… stealing Keith’s plate as Keith chases after him, everyone babbling and happy, the sweet, chaste kiss that Keith presses to his palm when he’s least expecting it… this is what makes it worth it.

He really doesn’t have words to express how much this means to him.


End file.
